


Reckless

by ventduprintemps



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Time, Hair Washing, M/M, Massage, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventduprintemps/pseuds/ventduprintemps
Summary: Curious fingers brush against the nape of his neck, leaving a feathery sensation across his skin, hesitant and reckless at the same time
Relationships: Orochimaru/Yakushi Kabuto
Comments: 14
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [approximately](https://archiveofourown.org/users/approximately/gifts).



There`s a rhythm to Kabuto`s movemements that lulls Orochimaru into a slightly embarassing, drowsy state and entices him at the same time. Partly because a pleasant sensation washes over him and alleviates the ever-present pain in his body, partly because he finds it mesmerizing how an act so simple can bring him a ridiculous amount of comfort. _Perhaps I should let him do this again._

Orochimaru hates feeling weak and his current situation only serves as a reminder of how incapacitated he is. He`s vulnerable and in pain, distressed in body and mind after his failure to destroy Konoha, unable to use his hands for something as basic as washing his hair. When he decided to swallow his pride and request Kabuto`s help for the task, Orochimaru swore to himself to strike his right-hand man down should he mock or taunt him in his current state.

But Kabuto is nothing but careful now, with his words as well as his hands. The Sannin can`t remember the last time he felt a touch so gentle, so unlike the killing intent of his enemies or the cold and fearful fumbling of his subordinates. There`s a reason he allows Kabuto to do this. After all, he is the most competent member of his little empire, even though Orochimaru still fears a betrayal, now that his power is questionable at best. _He could strike me down now…But where would he go? Would it do him any good?_

So Orochimaru allows himself to feel slightly more at ease in the not-so-comfortable chair they have moved to the shower, tilting his head to the side with a soft sigh. The touch is comforting, seeping through his skin in warm waves, albeit Kabuto still seems a bit hesitant to properly tug at his hair, all gentleness and careful, _almost_ teasing fingers. Orochimaru is proud and strangely protective of his hair, but even he must begrudgingly admit it`s in capable hands, so familiar with healing and touching it`s almost second nature.

Soon enough the warm water ceases to flow through his hair and he realizes the moment is over for now, that Kabuto should go back to fixing the disarray left after the invasion. Curious fingers brush against the nape of his neck, leaving a feathery sensation across his skin, hesitant and reckless at the same time. Orochimaru casts a quick glance over his shoulder and finds Kabuto silent and still behind him, though he`s brave enough to hold his gaze. A smile tugs at the corner of Orochimaru`s mouth and he brushes his hair so it cascades down his chest, exposing his neck.

The warm fingers return, less hesitant this time and Orochimaru swallows a soft noise in the back of his throat, before it threatens to spill. He feels them on the bare skin of his neck, on the damp, loose robe that covers his shoulders, as far as Kabuto can reach and it eases the burning in his lungs, the scoarching ache in his arms, the ember of fear in him that he`s lost everything. He`s so lost to the sensation he barely notices Kabuto switching positions, moving to sit in front of him to reach his chest. He`s surprised, but certainly curious to see how this new intimacy unfolds between them, so he locks his gaze with Kabuto`s as the other unties his robe, uncovering the broken, vulnerable body beneath him. Orochimaru feels the bitterness seep into his bones at his inability to take the lead in this too, but the shy touches he receives are so rare he can`t help but find it endearing.

“You`re so eager to please me today, Kabuto. And you haven`t made one single snarky remark either. Should I be worried?” A hand drifts across the lithe muscles of his abdomen, warmer and warmer.

“Worried, Orochimaru-sama? What for?” _Ah. Here`s that know-it-all smirk._

“This would be a very sweet betrayal.” _A very sweet one indeed._ “I`m not powerless. Even now.” _Though it burns and it stings_

Kabuto sighs, holds his gaze and moves one of his hands to press over the spot where Orochimaru`s heart strains against his ribcage. “Of course you aren`t, my lord. Only a fool would think so.”

Kabuto kneels in front of him and it scares Orochimaru, right then and there, how intimately this boy knows him, how reassuring he can be. It scares him far more than the experimental touch of Kabuto`s hand on him does. Even more than the hesitant brush of lips, unexpected as it may be. Soon he is drowning in that engulfing, ever clever mouth, so ridiculously close he`s ashamed of himself, the pain in his body nothing but a distant dullness. He moves, arches, desperate for more, not exactly considerate, but Kabuto makes no complaint, as lost in the moment as Orochimaru himself and he feels both broken and mended as he comes.

He takes a deep breath, as much as his lungs allow and he feels mortal again, vulnerable in the aftermath of what happened between them. He commands his wretched hands to move enough to pull Kabuto forward and kisses him sloppily, recognition and assurance mingled with a breath of gentleness of which he hasn`t thought himself capable in ages. He wants to see what else this boy could do, to relinquish control and gain it, to _feel_ so much of that skin against his.

He wonders why.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I feel the need to hide under a blanket

“Have I displeased you, my lord?”

The tea is ready on the nightstand, alongside the bitter remedies Orochimaru has to swallow, with increasing futility, each day. He reads the question before it`s even asked, in the barely-there stiffness of Kabuto`s shoulders, the slightly rigid posture and the quiet hesitation of his bowed head.  
And Orochimaru longs to find it within himself to snarl and dismiss his medic, to soothe his wounds with the certainty that he doesn`t want a foolish boy`s touch, that he doesn`t perceive that surreal moment of intimacy between them as the deepest comfort he could find in his wretched state of almost destruction.  
Instead, he pushes his hands into the bed, lifting his upper body and willing it to sit straight against the pillow protectively placed at his back. He won`t torment himself with stringing together the words to form an aswer, not when his voice sounds feeble and his breaths resemble pleas, not when he can _touch_.

“Come here, Kabuto.”

Orochimaru quickly brushes aside how endearing his right-hand man can be with the deer caught in the headlights look on his face (and commits it to memory for future reference), intent on focusing on Kabuto`s reactions instead. There`s something cautious, almost reverent to his quiet footsteps, a sort of subdued restlessness, a visible effort to move at a tantalizing pace. Orochimaru wishes he could feel Kabuto`s heart trembling inside his ribcage, to ascertain once and for all the truth in his intentions. But he only gets to feel the mattress dip with his subordinate, who lingers right on the edge of the bed and patiently looks into his eyes.  
“Do you regret it?”  
“I never find it in myself to regret anything I do for you, Lord Orochimaru.” There he is, the Kabuto he`s grown accustomed to, elusive smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, so Orochimaru feels closer to finding his footing again. “You should know that by now.”  
And in the pain of defeat, the sickness of a spell he knows he must undo, the encompassing warmth of his own bed they now share with only a couple of breaths between them, Orochimaru knows. He knows he`s seen devotion, but never before has it been as clear as the sky on a summer dawn and he knows he`s seen acceptance, but never one so complete.  
So he leans forward, closes his eyes and kisses Kabuto, the way he did when he could still taste himself on the boy`s lips, a hint of desperation to his movements, as if his heart knows it`s long overdue. As though his near-immortality cannot erase the feeling that forever is still not within their grasp, might never be, no matter how much they chase it.  
He feels Kabuto`s hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades, even now, while the other one is buried in the hair covering his neck, tugging lightly. Orochimaru touches him too, starting from the ear, to the place where his neck meets his shoulder, trailing down his back. He makes a motion to lift Kabuto`s shirt and smiles at the sudden gasp that replaces the no doubt rational observation to stop exerting his arms.  
He feels the bitterness seeping into his lungs again, while Kabuto divests them of their clothes, careful and lingering on every new expanse of skin he finds, as if it wasn`t just skin covering muscle and bone, as if he could carve a place for himself there and call it home. And Orochimaru knows he`s following the same pattern, with his tongue and teeth and fingers, as much as his body allows him, but he wants to be the one to unravel Kabuto, to make him spill every thought he`s ever had, every secret, every way he`s craved to be touched. He wants to be powerful, nimble, impossible to hurt, so Kabuto wouldn`t have to restrain himself for fear of worsening his condition.

“This wretched body” is all he concedes to confess.  
“Is only temporary. Lie down, my lord.”

This time, he welcomes the touch of Kabuto`s hand on him and wonders how he went the last few days without it. His tongue slides out and wraps around the other`s erection, drawing a long, strangled moan from him, while his hand rests on top of Kabuto`s, guiding his movements, unable to take his eyes off him. He`s perfectly content with the rhythmic sparks of pleasure and grumbles when they stop. Kabuto looks up at him breathlessly, a sheepish smile on his face.  
“Can I be selfish, my lord?” Before Orochimaru can assure him that he`ll take care of him too this time, Kabuto straddles him, still smiling, seemingly composed but for the slight trembling in his body and Orochimaru gives in and allows himself to moan, all senses focused on the contact between them. He knows how it goes, how messy it can be and wonders why Kabuto wants to go to such lengths to give him comfort, but instead of questioning his right-hand man, he supposes Kabuto needs this too, wants to find his own pleasure in their utmost closeness.  
He hasn`t felt a need for tenderness in a long, long time, but now he finds it within himself to be mindful of the small gasps and whimpers of the person on top of him, to listen more to the hitches in Kabuto`s breath than to his own desire, to feel proud when the boy`s rhythm falters with the coiling of his tongue around him.

Orochimaru knows how fickle emotions are, how doomed to vanish or be molded into something else, how an entire human life means nothing in the face of time itself. Yet he wishes to hold on a little longer to the strange and sweet comfort of this boy he met by chance, now catching his breath on his chest, near his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing something about them, so here is my attempt at a hair washing fic. Hope you like it :)


End file.
